


The Adventures of Violetta Mondarev in the Seraglio of the Silver Sheikh

by Sturzkampf



Series: The Ordeals of Violetta Mondarev [1]
Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Originally Posted Elsewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sturzkampf/pseuds/Sturzkampf
Summary: There are terrible things that even a smoke knight shouldn’t have to do





	1. Agatha Heterodyne has a Plan!

**Author's Note:**

> _Extremely silly and not half as salacious as some of you might hope_

“I’ve got a plan!” exclaimed Agatha Heterodyne. Violetta and Zeetha exchanged an uneasy look. “It’s a normal person plan!” continued Agatha, completely oblivious to the uneasy looks on the faces of her two companions turning to pure dismay. They remembered her previous plans. “It will get us into the palace without using any science! See, what we’ll do is use this dreadful slave market to our own advantage! I’ll be the slaver, obviously and I’ll be selling you two to the Sheikh. He’s not going to be able to resist two beautiful young women to add to his Seraglio is he? Then, once we’re inside, you’ll open a window or something for me, lower a rope so I can get in and bring all my kit and then everything will be easy.”

“What about all these slavers?” asked Zeetha.

“Oh we’ll come back and deal with them and free the slaves once we’ve thwarted the Sheikh. One thing at a time! Come on! Let’s find some slave girl costumes for your disguises. It’ll be fun!” She bustled off through the souk.

“Slave girl costumes? Seriously?” asked Violetta.

Zeetha shrugged in resignation. “Someone needs to get out a bit more often. Come on, let’s get dressed up.”

“You know, we could just say no.”

“No. No we can’t.”

“No, I suppose not.”

\----------------*

It was another one of those Adventures that had seemed so straightforward at the planning stage but had turned out to be much more complicated on the ground. News had come to Mechanicsburg that the evil Sheikh Silberschmuck, the self-styled ‘Silver Sheikh’ had established a slave market in his mighty City State on the north coast of Africa and now his ships prowled the coastal towns and shipping lanes, looking to acquire new products to boost the local economy. Obviously, Agatha Heterodyne was not going to stand for that sort of thing and an expedition was arranged to take down the Silver Sheikh and his abominable slavers at the earliest opportunity.

Of course, it wasn’t as simple as that. It never is. The initial reconnaissance showed that the only hope of conquering the strongly-defended palace complex would be an overwhelming co-ordinated aerial assault. Unfortunately, the Sheikh had obviously come to the same conclusion and unsportingly installed an extensive surface to air defensive system that not even The Heterodyne’s air fleet could hope to defeat without unacceptable casualties. The obvious answer was to send in a small, unobtrusive but capable commando unit to disable or destroy the defences so the invasion fleet could sail in unopposed. A squad of Jägers would have been a good choice, were it not for the unobtrusive part. In the end, Agatha, against the advice of, well, just about everyone, had decided to go in herself, with Violetta and Zeetha as back-up. The Heterodyne still enjoyed Adventures.

The ladies had arrived in the town unobtrusively enough, disguised as a three-girl team of itinerant sanitation engineers, but then they had run into another problem. All the controls for the air defences were inside the Sheikh’s fortified palace and, as Agatha found out when she sent some little clanks in to look around, the palace perimeter was protected by some pretty formidable automatic mechanical eradication systems that identified and destroyed anything using Science that it didn’t recognise.

Then they’d tried to sneak in themselves, but found that the Sheikh had a serious of cunning traps to detect Sparks. Yes, I know this is always thought to be impossible, but the Sheikh was no fool. All the entrances were lined with a serious of incredible abstruse and complicated mechanical puzzles. A normal person would be unaffected but no Spark was able resist the temptation to start moving the pieces to solve the problems and show them, show them all! The puzzles were closely monitored and anyone touching them set off an alarm. When the ladies made their infiltration attempt Zeetha and Violetta had had to physically restrain Agatha and it was only because the guards were distracted by the sight of the three ladies wrestling that Violetta had manged to stun them with poisoned darts so they could make their escape. After that alarm the guards on the palace had doubled and it looked as though the invasion fleet waiting just over the horizon might have to be sent home. When all had seemed lost, Agatha had come up with her ‘normal person’ plan.

\----------------*

The slave girl costumes turned out to be remarkably expensive, considering how little material they actually contained. Violetta felt extremely uncomfortable in her new revealing outfit and not only because she had an awful lot more skin on show than normal. The lack of clothing meant that she had had to discard fully one third of the concealed weapons, poisons and other tools of her trade, and without them she truly felt naked.

“Hey, at least you finally get to wear a pretty dress,” said Zeetha, trying to cheer her up.

“This is _not_ a pretty dress. Or any other kind of dress. Dresses cover up my… well, they cover up a lot more than this.”

\------------*

The souk was crowded and filled with human misery. Despite her misgivings, it hardened Violetta’s resolve to go through with The Heterodyne’s desperate – and slightly silly – plan. Agatha found a pitch from which to sell her wares and arranged them to show off their unique selling points to best advantage.

“Now look as though you want to be sold,” she explained. “Most of these poor people are obviously here against their will and are being sold in bulk. With only the two of you in such prime condition, I’m obviously offering products at the top end of the market, which is exactly what the Sheikh will be looking for.”

Indeed, Violetta and Zeetha were subjected to some scrutiny by the customers in the souk, but as most of them were looking for labourers for their farms and factories, no-one put in an offer to buy them. Then there was a commotion through the souk. Armed men began clearing a path through the crowds, who obediently drew back to leave a clear passage for their Lord and Master.

Violetta had imagined the Sheikh would be a short middle aged man, pudgy, ugly and slightly ludicrous. She was not prepared for the tall bronzed Adonis who strolled confidently through the souk, his curly hair perfectly coiffured, a small moustache on his upper lip, his perfectly sculptured muscles of his upper torso displayed beneath his open waistcoat, the bulging muscles of his upper arms ready to wield the large scimitar hanging from his belt with expert precision. The signature silver jewellery, which would have looked effeminate on a lesser man, only served to highlight his masculinity. Agatha made sure she caught his eye and made a sweeping bow.

“My lord, may I bring to your attention two exquisite examples of womanhood for your consideration! Newly arrived from exotic climes! A unique opportunity, never to be repeated!” The Sheikh looked round with the ennui of a man who has seen it all before and then did a double take as he saw the goods on offer.

“By Zoroaster!!” he exclaimed, “Now that is impressive. Such a perfect example of feminine beauty I have never seen before! Outstanding!”

Zeetha smiled and adopted a provocative pose with disturbing expertise.

“No, not the old fat one, I mean this young lady with the red hair. Never in all my life have I seen such perfection! Such grace! Such intelligence! I’ll take her! How much?”

The Sheikh pushed past Zeetha, paying her no attention, which was fortunate as he did not notice Agatha physically restraining the Skifandian princess. Violetta gave a slightly worried, but rather smug grin as the Lord of the Castle subjected her to a close examination.

 “Ah, er… I’m afraid these two only come as a pair,” Agatha desperately adlibbed. “I couldn’t possibly split them.”

“Of course,” replied the Sheikh. “Obviously mother and daughter. I suppose I could find a use for the old one. At least she obviously likes her food.” He turned back to Zeetha. “Can you cook at all dear?” Agatha stepped in before the full extent of the danger he was in could become apparent.

“Yes, she can cook very well. She can turn her hand to anything you require, isn’t that right slave?” she said loudly, looking Zeetha in the eye as though she were cajoling a recalcitrant product. “Normal person plan, remember?” she hissed in her ear. Zeetha suppressed her indignation and stuck to the plan.

“Yes, I’m an excellent cook,” she managed to say through gritted teeth. “I’ve worked in kitchens before. My speciality is 4-hour boiled broccoli.” Fortunately, Sheikh Silberschmuck had returned to admiring Violetta and wasn’t really listening.

“Yes, such unblemished beauty! Truly, Cinderella between her two pudgy ugly sisters!”

Agatha’s smile vanished like a snuffed-out candle flame and she looked around for the nearest blunt instrument.

“Normal person plan, remember?” Zeetha whispered in her ear, not without a certain malicious satisfaction.

“Excellent,” exclaimed the Sheikh. “So, what price are you asking for the pair?”

There was a brief amount of haggling, an activity at which Agatha proved surprisingly inept, and five minutes later Zeetha and Violetta became the property of the Silver Sheikh for a bargain price. As he strolled on to see what other bargains he could pick up from the souk today, the three ladies went into a huddle to hastily cobble together plan B.

“Right, so here’s what we’ll do,” explained Agatha. “That’s the Seraglio in the top to the tallest tower there. I’ll wait at the bottom of the tower with our kit. Zeetha you go to the kitchen, then when you get the chance, make your way up there. Meet up with Violetta and when it’s safe drop a rope down to me and I’ll climb up. Then it will be a simple matter to turn off the anti-dirigible defences and the fleet can sail in.”

“What do you want me to do?” asked Violetta.

“The Seraglio is bound to be extremely well guarded, so I expect it will be too dangerous for you to fight your way out and you’d never be able to meet up with Zeetha in a strange castle. The Sheikh will want to spend some time with his new acquisition. You distract him and wait for Zeetha to come and rescue you.” Violetta scowled at the idea of being rescued by anyone. Then a horrible thought occurred to her.

“Distract him?! What do you mean _distract him_?! What happens if he wants to… Er…"

“Have his wicked way with you?” replied Zeetha, raising an eyebrow, “Why, lie back and think of Mechanicsburg of course. Or you could, gosh, you know, actually enjoy yourself for once.”

“WHAT?! What kind of girl do you think I am?!”

“Honestly! What is the matter with you? You could be dead before the sun goes down. You need to grab your pleasures when you can! Take the chance to have a bit of fun if there’s an opportunity. That Sheikh looks a bit of all right to me. I’m sure he knows his way around the paddock even if you don’t. I mean look at Agatha; how much happier she is now she’s made friends with Gil.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” retorted Agatha, turning away to hide her smug self-satisfied smirk.

“I’m not about to jump in the sack with anyone just like that! I’m waiting for the right man!”

“And what do you think that will take?”

Violetta’s shoulders sagged despondently. “Going on recent history, a waggley tail.”

“Oh! Oh!” exclaimed Agatha, her voice suddenly charged with Spark-driven enthusiasm. “I can do that!”

“Joking.” Unheeding, Agatha produced an alarming sharp, hideously-complicated instrument from the medical compartment of her tool belt and advanced on her latest ~~victim~~ experimental subject with predatory intent. “No! NO!! _I’m joking_!!” squeaked Violetta in alarm, darting behind Zeetha. Fortunately for everyone, The Heterodyne’s plan to cur tail her Smoke Knight was curtailed by the arrival of the Sheikh’s major domo with a bag of gold and two large guards, come to take possession of their Master’s latest acquisitions. Agatha made sure she counted the money before she handed them over.

\-------------*

The guards escorted Violetta and Zeetha into the palace. The ladies were afraid that they might be recognised after their first attempt to get inside, but fortunately, as they were wearing their slave girl costumes, no-one was looking at their faces. Zeetha was handed over to the kitchen staff and taken down into the depths of the building. Violetta was taken upstairs and handed over to a completely different set of guards; the guards of the Seraglio. She could imagine how they were different. Indeed, although the ‘outdoor’ guards had been paying her embarrassingly close attention, those of the Seraglio looked on her with indifference, which of course made them much more dangerous opponents. They took her up a long stair case and then another, climbing to the top of the high pinnacle of the palace in which the Seraglio was located. Finally, they reached a locked and secure door, guarded by a truly enormous guard armed with a gigantic curved blade as long as Violetta was tall. The guard opened the door, ushered her inside and then closed it behind her with a final clang. She heard the key turn in the lock and realised that she was now a concubine in the Seraglio of Sheikh Silberschmuck. 

Violetta looked around her new home. To her surprise, she was alone and the room was sparsely furnished. There were a couple of sofas, which she learned later were actually called ‘divans’, and a large and comfortable bed, without sheets, but with an enclosure of impossibly fine muslin. In a corner stood a cabinet of filigreed wood, in which she found, after checking it for traps as well as she was able under the circumstances, some flasks of fine wines and liqueurs, Venetian glasses, and a box of Belgian chocolate mimmoths.

The smooth plastered walls were painted with what was either pornography or an instruction manual, Violetta couldn’t decide which. She couldn’t help but look at the pictures from a professional perspective. Even with her highly trained Smoke Knight body, she wasn’t sure if it some of those suggestions were actually possible. She found herself flexing her leg to see if it would really go up there and had to remind herself to concentrate on the mission.

The single window of perfect glass looked down to the town far below, but even if she had all her equipment, Violetta would not have wanted to attempt to climb those smooth walls. There were two doors leading out of the room. The first led to a small bathroom, tastefully lined in pink marble, with a large step-down bath big enough for two. Not on a par with the hot rain engines of Castle Heterodyne perhaps, but perfectly adequate. Behind the second door, Violetta found a small dressing room, with a dressing table complete with mirror and a chair. There were various concoctions in jars and bottles on the table, which she at first assumed would be poisons, but in fact turned out to be cosmetics and make-up. Violetta had heard of these, although she had no idea how any of them worked.

She went back into the main room, wondering what to do next. She was laying her head to one side, looking at the wall painting involving the step ladder and trying to work out whose limb was whose, when she heard the key turn in the lock. Suddenly the door burst open and a clank lumbered in, a mass of whiling arms and mechanical tentacles. Instinctively she reached for a knife that wasn’t there, then for her backup, which wasn’t there either, and then it was too late. She was overwhelmed before she could land a single blow on her assailant. The metal tentacles wrapped themselves around her and lifted her from the ground. Robotic arms bearing abominations of science descended towards her helpless body.


	2. The Temptation of Violetta Mondarev

Violetta struggled helplessly in the grip of the clank. She felt cold metal against her bare skin as its appendages crawled over her. A red laser beam arced across her leg and all she could do was not give them the satisfaction of hearing her scream. Then she realised she was not being hurt at all, or even being mistreated like the girls in those dubious Japanese cartoons that Tarvek liked to watch when he thought no-one was looking. She stopped struggling and tried to work out what was going on. Minions in various states of modification were bringing other machines into the room; unreasonable devices with many arms holding scissors, needles and thread, strange torsos like half-finished automata on wheels, trolleys laden with bales of brightly-coloured cloth. Behind them strode a striking character dressed in outrageous clothes; an embroidered frock coat, breeches with stockings, buckled shiny shoes and long, elaborate ringlets that reached down to his shoulders, all topped by an elaborate tricorn hat. He gazed at her through a lorgnette with aloof disdain, as though she were a dead rodent dragged in by the cat.

“ _Darling_ ,” he drawled, with elaborate affectation, “however _do_ you expect us to get proper measurements for your new clothes if you will _insist_ on fidgeting. Do _try_ and keep still so the Couture Engine can do its job. I am Claude, _artiste_ in residence at the court of the Silver Sheikh.”

Violetta realised that the cold steel pressing against her skin were not blades, but the metal ends of tape measures. The laser was not slicing through her flesh, but scanning her, projecting a grid pattern across her body that was being recorded and analysed by a series of glass-eyed cameras.

The clank finished its measuring and lowered her gently to the ground. The assembled minions plugged their various devices (or in the case of some of the more extreme modified individuals, themselves) into it and started to work. The wheeled torsos changed shape to become tailors’ manikins, matching the dimensions of Violetta’s body. The machines and machine-enhanced minions took up the various bundles of cloth and started to cut and stitch.

“What’s going on?” she asked Claude, who seemed to be the one in charge.

“ _Darling_ , you are now the property of the Sheikh Silberschmuck. You don’t think we are going to let you run around all day in that terribly _gauche_ _ensemble_ , do you? No! Of course not! You will have the very finest _haute couture_ to wear when your owner comes calling. Now we have all your measurements we will soon create a _gorgeous_ wardrobe of impeccable taste for you to wear.”

“Wardrobe?” Violetta had a sudden irrational image of herself walking around in a piece of flat-packed furniture. “Oh, you mean, as in ‘pretty dresses’?”

“I _suppose_ we could create a very _fetching_ pair of denim _dungarees_ if you really want them darling, but _honestly_ , the Sheikh prefers you to look a little more elegant than that. After all, he already employs people to do the gardens. It might be a struggle to turn you into a _Lady_ , but I can at least make you look like a _girl_. I suggest we stick with dresses for now, agreed? And as for pretty, I do not do ‘ _pretty’_. I do ‘ _exquisite’_!”

Violetta climbed slowly to her feet. Claude took her by the arm, directed her into the dressing room and sat her down in front of the mirror.

“Now that all the little people are creating your clothes to my designs, let’s get _you_ sorted out.” He gave a gesture without turning around and a minion wheeled in an elaborate wheeled case of beautifully carved wood, containing many drawers and cupboards.

“I am so, _so_ sorry,” said Claude. The case opened with a hiss of smooth mechanism and Violetta had a glimpse of sharp and shiny blades in the mirror. She squealed in alarm, but Claude pressed her back into the chair.

“Please. This will be _so_ much easier for everyone if you keep still and do what I say.” He reached down and took a glittering object from the case. He did something behind her head, out of sight. Violetta felt a sharp spike of pain from the back of her head.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked, fighting down the fear.

“Do? Why, I’m going to style your hair of course! As soon as I have all the knots out of it.” He continued to brush Violetta’s hair with his metal comb and she felt another twinge as he brushed out a tangle. “Did I not say I was an _artiste_ of genius? I am Claude, master coiffure and the greatest hairdresser in the world!”

“So, why were you saying sorry?”

“ _Darling_ , haven’t you looked in the mirror lately? I don’t know what terrible privations you have had to endure at the hands of those dreadful slavers, but doing such _awful_ things to your hair was truly the mark of complete philistines. You have my _deepest_ sympathy. But do not worry. Now, I am here to save the day and make you _beautiful_ again.”

Violetta had always cut her own hair, but had never given it much thought. She regarded it in the same way she regarded her toe nails. It was something you had that grew and when it got too long you hacked a bit off to make it short again. Having an expert do complicated things to it to improve her appearance was a completely alien concept.

Claude fussed around Violetta’s head with combs, scissors and several other hairdressing implements that she didn’t recognise, but she suspected were Spark-created. The whole thing fitted around her hair like a loosely-fitting helmet and purred into action. To take her mind off the sharp steel whirling round her head, she engaged her hairdresser in conversation. Anyway, it was a good chance to pick up some useful information about the household.

“I thought they’d be more people here.”

“Not crowded enough for you?” replied Claude, indicating the frenetic activity of mechanised cutting and sewing going on it the main room behind them.

“No, you know, more women. This is a harem – isn’t it?”

“ _Darling_ , the Sheikh used to have all of that traditional cattle market and believe me, it was absolute _Bedlam_ in here. All those young women shrieking and arguing. Whose turn it was to use the bathroom, who had the curlers, whether they were going to watch ‘Eastenders’ or ‘Coronation Street’. Simply _ghastly_! No, now his Excellency has taken the very sensible decision to stick with one woman at a time. Apart from his wife of course. She does all the child bearing and heir producing bit and the Sheikh has his little seraglio for the fun stuff – and so his wife isn’t bothered by all that fumbling around business any more than she needs to be.”

“So he’s faithful to one mistress then?”

“Of course, _darling_. Until he gets bored of you, _obviously_ , and then you’ll be replaced by the next pretty little girl that catches his eye.”

“I’ve read about that!” Violetta exclaimed in horror. “He has his one night of wicked pleasure with his new bride and then has her executed in the morning ready for a new one the next day!”

“ _Darling_ , where _do_ you get these melodramatic ideas? What kind of barbarians do you think we are? Of course the Sheikh’s concubines aren’t executed. They’re married off to some lucky man at court with a substantial dowry and they no doubt live happily ever after. And as for one night, that would _never_ do. Our Sheikh is not _that_ feckless. It will be _months_ before he tires of you. Why, the last one lasted almost a year! Between you and me, I think he was rather fond of her.”

“Oh, er good. I think.”

Having set in motion the machinery around Violetta’s head to his satisfaction, Claude moved round in front of her and started doing things to her face with the mysterious concoctions and apparatus on the dressing table. There was something else that was bothering the Smoke Knight.

“I can’t help noticing that, er, everyone here apart from me is a man. I suppose you are all, er…, had a slight, er…, operation, er…, you know, to…um.”

“You think we’re Eunuchs? _Darling_ , you have been reading _far_ too many Heterodyne Boys Novels. We do _not_ go around chopping off people’s privates. The Sheikh has a _far_ more certain and refined method of making sure his minions won’t interfere with his property. None of us working in the Seraglio has the _least_ interest in women.”

“Why not? Oh! You mean you’re all…um…”

“Bent as a pewter ducat, as the Wandering Jew said to the Devil about the Poet? Oh yes.”

“Most of you don’t look…”

“Oh _please_ Darling, do you think all gay men are over-dramatic, effeminate, posturing...” He stopped and considered for a moment. “Well, _I_ am of course, but I am an _artiste_! A sensitive creative _genius_!” 

He removed the apparatus surrounding Violetta’s head and stepped aside so she could see her reflection. She stared at the beautiful young woman looking back out at her from the glass.

“That… that’s amazing!”

“One does what one can, darling. I’m afraid it was the _best_ I could do with what was available. If we can give it a month or two, so your hair can grow a bit longer, why then I can do the job _properly_.” He looked out through the doorway, to where the minions working on Violetta’s wardrobe were finishing their work.

“Your dresses are ready,” he told her. “Now, we will depart, leaving you to prepare for the arrival of your new owner. From what I hear, you will be having a _very_ enjoyable evening. Do feel free to select the,” he rolled his eyes, “‘pretty dress’ that you like the most. I do hope you’ll find it _so_ much more to your taste than dungarees. And now darling, _farewell_.” His minions and their machines rolled out of the door. Claude followed them with a final elaborate bow. The guard closed the door and Violetta heard the key turn in the lock. Suddenly, all was quiet and she was alone.

Violetta walked back into the main room and looked around; at the line of new ~~pretty~~ exquisite dresses hanging from a rail by the window; the box of Belgian chocolate mimmoths; the fine wines and liqueurs with the Venetian glasses. A sheet of paper had been left on top of the cabinet; a list of all the parties she would be required to attend as concubine to the Sheikh. She could almost hear the diabolic voice whispering in her left ear, the little devil of herself sitting on her shoulder.

‘ _This is everything you’ve ever wanted. All you have to do is reach out your hand and take it. No more endless training. No more putting your life in danger. No more horrible doses of poisons to keep your immunity up every morning. You’ve always hated being a Smoke Knight and you’ve never been any good at it. And you, know, the Sheikh isn’t all that bad looking. No let’s face it, he is seriously smoking hot._ ’

But there was also the angelic voice of her conscience on her right shoulder. ‘ _You are a Smoke Knight! Sworn to service, no matter what the cost! Think of your duty! Think of your honour! Think of your solemn vow to Lady Heterodyne_!’

‘ _And does she care or appreciate you?’_ sneered the little devil _. ‘Does she hell! What reward has she ever given you apart from a broken rib cage, enough stress to give you a heart attack by the time you’re forty and a few platitudes when the man you love married a talking dog instead of you? While if you play your cards right, the Sheikh might even buy you your own pony_.’

‘A pony?!’ squeaked Violetta. ‘Do you think so?’

She walked along the line of beautiful dresses, almost not daring to touch the shimmering silk in case it turned out not to be real. They were everything she had ever dreamed of. She stopped at the last dress and gasped, almost unable to breathe in excitement. It was a dress the like of which she had never imagined, created in the most lustrous silk, shining with iridescent colours like a butterfly’s wing that changed with the light as it moved. With trembling hands Violetta reached out her hand to take it from the rack. She knew that it would be a perfect fit, designed for her and her alone. Surely it would do no harm to just…

When her hand was an inch from touching the marvellous dress, there came a sudden series of dull clangs from outside. The key turned in the lock and the door to her room swung open. The giant guard slowly toppled in with a resounding thump, stunned and rigid, like a felled tree. Zeetha strode in over his unconscious body, dragged him inside, looked left and right down the corridor outside and swiftly closed the door. She was holding a strange weapon in her hand. It looked like a large flat round metal plate with a rim and a handle. Violetta was an expert on all forms of hand-to-hand combat, but it took her several seconds to realise what it was.

“Is that a _frying pan_?”

“Cast iron,” Zeetha assured her. “As effective as any sword in the right hands and I was trained by a Master in the Art.”

“O _kay_ …”

“Got the place secure? Excellent. So far so good. I got away from the kitchen easily enough and anyone who saw me between there and here won’t be waking up any time soon. See if Agatha is waiting down below.” Violetta reached for the high latch on the window, but to her annoyance she was too short to reach it.

“Here, let me,” offered Zeetha.

“No, you tie up your friend. I can get this.” Zeetha turned back to the guard. Two seconds later she heard the click of the window latch. She looked round and her eyes widened in amazement.

“Did you just grow three inches taller?” she asked.

“It’s a Smoke Knight thing. Don’t ask.”

“Ah. Right.” She crossed over to the open window and glanced out. “Excellent! There’s Agatha with our kit. Are there any curtains or blankets we can use as a rope so she can climb up?”

They looked quickly round the room. “That stuff over the bed won’t hold her weight,” said Zeetha, “but you can cut up those old dresses. If you chop them into strips you can plait them to make a rope, I’ll make sure the guard is tied up.” She bent down to secure the unconscious henchman with his shirt. Violetta was standing gazing into space with a look of dismay on her face. “Get a move on! We haven’t got all day! Someone will notice all the missing guards and be raising the alarm at any minute!”

Violetta steeled herself to endure the horrors of service to the Heterodyne and began to cut up the dresses into strips to make a rope. Zeetha checked her knots and turned back to Violetta. “As soon as you have the rope made up we can…EEP! Where in Ashtara’s name were you concealing that machete?!”

“Do you really want to know?”

“No! No, on second thoughts I don’t think I do.” She crossed to the window and signalled down to Agatha waiting below.

As she progressed, Violetta was calculating the length of the rope she could make from each work of art that she destroyed and working out how many she would need to make a rope long enough to reach the ground but still be strong enough to support Agatha’s weight. At the end of the line was the butterfly-wing dress,

‘Not the pretty dress. Oh, please not the pretty dress!’ she pleaded to herself, but the soon the penultimate dress had been sacrificed and the rope still wasn’t long enough. Violetta felt as though her heart would break as she took the beautiful silk from its hanger and started to slice the amazing fabric into slices. As she did so the iridescence within it seemed to die, as though she had killed a living creature.

“Is there a puppy in here?” asked Zeetha, still watching by the window, “I’m sure I can hear something whimpering.”

The rope was finally complete. Violetta decided she at least deserved a Belgian chocolate mimmoth after such an ordeal, but when she looked around she found that Zeetha had already eaten them all.

“Right,” said Violetta, crossing to the open window with her impromptu rope. “Let’s see if her Ladyship is ready to… YIPE!”

She jerked back from the window just in time to avoid a small silver projectile, fired from the ground below, that whizzed vertically two inches past her nose and embedded itself in the stonework at the top of the window. There was a strong but light metal cord attached. Violetta gazed open-mouthed at the familiar device, her mind refusing to accept the horrific implications. From below came the whirring of powerful clockwork and five seconds later Agatha reached the window sill and clambered into the room.

“Ah, Violetta, Zeetha, all ready I see, excellent,” she beamed. “Since Violetta had to leave her grapnel gun behind I thought I might as well use it to get up here.”

“Grapnel,” whispered Violetta.

“Shame you didn’t remember I had it; it would have saved you the trouble of cutting up all these old rags… Violetta are you feeling all right?”

“Rags…” Violetta let the woven multi-coloured rope of fine silks drop to the floor from her nerveless hands. Without a word she walked into the small dressing room. Agatha and Zeetha looked at each other in concern. They heard a very loud, very long, anguished scream from the other side of the thick wooden door. There was a moment’s silence and then Violetta stepped out, wiping the spittle from her lips.

“Er, are you sure you’re Okay?” enquired Agatha.

The Smoke Knight looked at The Heterodyne with a thousand-yard stare.

“Can I go and kill something please?” she asked.

“That’s the Spirit!” exclaimed Agatha, relieved that there was nothing wrong after all. “Let’s give these slavers the sound thrashing they deserve!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The discussion between the Wandering Jew (who is not, in fact, Jewish) and the Devil (who is not, in fact, a Devil) about the Poet (who is, in fact, as bent as a pewter ducat) can be found in ‘Men of Good Fortune’ by Neil Gaiman. Quite possibly the best graphic short story of all time._


	3. When Lovely Woman Stoops to Folly

Violetta, not for the first or the last time in her service to The Heterodyne, took a deep breath, buried her frustrations with all the rest of the mental baggage to be dealt with later, and got on with the Adventure.

Meanwhile, Zeetha had unpacked the parcel that Agatha had brought up with her and handed round the raiding party’s equipment. Despite her proficiency in the frying pan, she was pleased to get her two Skifandian swords back for the coming battle. She passed Agatha a small death ray and Violetta her utility belt and neck pouch.

“Haven’t you forgotten something?” asked the Smoke Knight, expectantly.

“No, I don’t think so,” replied Agatha fiddling with the orgone energy accumulators of her death ray. “Did you want some more of your knives or something.”

“I was thinking, you know, some clothes might have been good?”

“Why, you’re not cold are you? The climate’s pretty warm this far South.”

“No, but I’m… _sigh_ , never mind. Let’s go and take out this defensive system.”

They went out into the corridor and carefully made their way back down the tower. Zeetha had already neutralised the guards, so they made good time, even though Violetta, despite being outvoted two-to-one, insisted on going slowly and sneakily. Once they turned off from the path to the kitchen and headed towards the control room, they began to run into more opposition. At first, they managed to evade, stun or bludgeon individual opponents, but as they got closer to their objective, they became aware of a general alarm spreading through the palace. Each missing guard, each bound and gagged minion, was like a tiny pebble rolling down the mountainside and each pebble was putting more rocks in motion as people were missed or discovered. By the time they approached the control room the momentum was building up to a full-scale avalanche.

They came to an archway that led outside to a wide courtyard. On the far side was the door to the control room. The courtyard had elegant tiling, tasteful statues and many fountains of white marble that together gave a cool and civilised open space in the desert sunshine. Unfortunately, it was also full of guards, milling around like disturbed wasps, aware that something was wrong, but with no idea of where or what the threat was. The ladies peered cautiously around the corner from their cover in the shadows.

“ _Let’s use the Death Ray to intimidate them_ ,” whispered Agatha,

“What?” hissed Zeetha.

“ _I said, Let’s use the Death Ray to intimidate them_ ,” repeated Agatha, very softly.

“I know we’re trying to be quiet here, but could you speak up just a little? I can barely understand you.”

“Sorry, I’m a hoarse whisperer. Let’s use the Death Ray to intimidate them.”

“That could work, but what about if…no, wait! ... Oh Ashtara’s toenails!” Before Zeetha could stop her, The Heterodyne stepped out into the courtyard and started shooting.

Violetta and Zeetha both knew that although Agatha’s Death Rays were awfully effective, they were invariably ridiculously overclocked and overpowered, so that the components burned out extremely quickly. On a good day you could get three or four shots before something inside caught fire or melted. On a bad day, the whole thing would self-destruct at the first shot. They had tried to explain to Agatha that in a combat situation it might be better to have a Death Ray of rather less power but greater reliability. Agatha always nodded politely and immediately forgot everything she had been told.

The first shot demolished one of the ornate fountains and got everyone’s attention. The second disintegrated an elegant statue depicting the legend of Lamprocles and the Pangolin.

“All right! Nobody move!” screamed Agatha, waving her death ray around at random. The guards looked at each other, dropped their weapons and raised their hands in the air. All except one, a giant with a shaved head and a cruel moustache who stood in front of the control room door, his scimitar poised.

“I only regret that I have but one life to lose for the Silver Sheikh,” he announced in a determined voice.

“Gosh, I can do that!” exclaimed Agatha, “Give me a moment to turn the power on the death ray down a bit so I can shoot you without completely wrecking your brain. Then, if you can let me have access to a half-decent medical lab and a first-rate lightning generator, I can zap you back to life so I can kill you again. We can do it all over and over. With a bit of luck, you should be able to lose your life for the Silver Sheikh at least six times before you become a hopelessly insane ravening monster and have to be permanently destroyed!”

The guard looked at The Heterodyne and saw nothing but insane sincerity. His resolve crumbled like a sand castle hit by a wave. He dropped his scimitar and fled screaming from the courtyard.

“Aw,” said Agatha in disappointment. She had been looking forward to the intellectual challenge. At least the incident convinced any guards who were still showing lingering fanatical loyalty to their master to surrender, and they shuffled into a corner under the blackened muzzle of the death ray. It was obvious to Violetta that her Mistress was now holding a large piece of smoking scrap. Before anyone else could come to the same conclusion she lobbed a canister of knock-out gas into the middle of the prisoners and made sure they were all unconscious with a few well-placed kicks. It didn’t cheer her up half as much as she had hoped.  

Once the courtyard was secure, Violetta and Zeetha guarded the door, while Agatha hurried into the control room. They heard her give a sudden shriek. Fearing the worst, they both rushed inside. The entire wall of the control room was covered with blade switches, each of which controlled one component of the palace defence mechanism. Agatha was standing in front of them ready to burst with excitement, like a little girl who has just been given all her Christmas presents at once.

“Don’t just stand there girl,” exclaimed Zeetha, “start turning it off!” With renewed resolve Agatha flung herself at the array of switches, giggling with delight. As each contact was broken there was a flash of sparks, and crackle of electricity with a flashing warning light as another system shut down. The Heterodyne’s giggling rose and rose to an insane maniacal cackle and then to full on diabolical laughter.

“Now, signal the fleet!” Zeetha told Violetta, “It’s time for the invasion to begin!”

Violetta stepped out into the courtyard and fired a signal rocket that burst high in the sky in a blaze of unnecessary colours, but then a portcullis descended across the entrance to the control room with a crash, trapping Agatha and Zeetha inside. A doorway on the far side of the courtyard burst open and the Silver Sheikh ran out into the sunlight, whirling his enormous scimitar. Behind him came a new batch of guards. Zeetha appeared at the portcullis. “I can’t get this thing open to help you! Agatha won’t be any help until she finishes.” From behind her, Violetta could hear The Heterodyne still happily at work.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!! YES!! OH YES!! _OH YES_!!!”

Violetta braced herself to face the onslaught alone. Then a new alarm rang across the palace. Shouts came from the guard towers. The Sheikh and his minions turned and looked to the horizon. A growing black cloud approached, casting its shadow across the town – the vengeful Heterodyne air fleet. From within the control room, almost drowned out by ecstatic laughter, the Sheikh heard the last of his precious aerial defences shutting down.

There are white founts falling in the courts of the sun and the Heterodyne of Mechanicsburg is laughing as they run. There is laughter like the fountains in that face so cruel and fair. It stirs the golden cornfield, the cornfield of her hair. It curls the blood-red crescent, the crescent of her lips, for the inmost sky of Silberschmuck is shaken by her ships.

Drop pods rained down from the airships. One landed in the courtyard. The ramp dropped and a single, hatless Jäger charged towards the Sheikh’s guards. He made straight for the largest officer, heedless of the other enemies who swarmed around him. Only when he was fully engaged with his target did the rest of the Jäger squad, waiting politely for him to have first go, rush down the ramp into the fray with a happy cheer.

The Sheikh realised that the game was up. He turned his back on Violetta and ran. Ignoring the increasing carnage around him he ducked under a side swipe from a fun-sized mobile agony and death dispenser that was demonstrating its primary function using a squad of his elite palace sentries, and darted into a doorway in the base of one of the palace towers.

In the courtyard, Violetta saw the Silberschmuck officer go down. His Jäger opponent ignored the terrible wounds he had sustained in the fight and picked up his defeated opponent’s ornate hat. The rest of the Jägers disengaged from combat long enough to give their comrade a round of applause as he placed it on his head. Then they got back to the serious business of crushing the enemies of the House of Heterodyne.

Zeetha, still trapped in the control room, shouted at Violetta.

“We’ll clean up here! Get after the Sheikh! Don’t let him get away! GO!”

The Smoke Knight raced into the tower after the Sheikh. With her dagger in her hand, she ran slowly up the stairs, not wanting to let him build up too much of a lead but on the other hand not wanting to run straight into an ambush. She reached the door at the top of the tower and kicked it open. The Sheikh was standing on a carpet in the middle of the room. Even after all her time in Mechanicsburg, Violetta still could not help but stare in disbelief. The carpet was hovering half a metre above the floor. The Sheikh turned to her and held out his hand.

“My Love! You came! Together we shall make our escape. We will sail on my flying carpet to my desert fastness and from there take back all that has been lost.”

“No,” snapped Violetta, “we don’t like slavers where we come from. You can’t escape. Surrender now and I’ll make sure you’re well treated.”

“Slavers? The slave trade is part of our traditional way of life. Frankly, I find your contempt for cultural diversity to be little more than racist, but I should have known I could not expect ethnic sensitivity from The Heterodyne or her minions. You leave me with no option.” He drew his enormous scimitar and whipped it round his body in an impressive display of prowess, deflecting Violetta’s last two knock-out darts almost as an afterthought. “Now, I believe the phrase is, ‘Come and have a go if you think you are hard enough’.”

Violetta was already in the air with her dagger raised before the Sheikh had finished speaking. With horrifying dexterity, he knocked her hand away with the flat of his blade and sent her weapon spinning into the corner of the room. With his other hand he caught her around the waist with an iron grip of perfectly toned muscles as she crashed into him. He dropped his blade, grabbed her head, and bent her body backwards until she was almost horizontal. Violetta struggled helplessly, trying to get her arms or legs to bear, unable reach for another weapon.  

Then the Sheikh kissed her.

Violetta tensed and then her body shivered with pleasure as his hands moved across it like a virtuoso playing a musical instrument. She realised she would do anything the Sheikh wanted her to do. Anything at all. She relaxed, put her arms around him and let herself be kissed again. It was even better than the first time. She looked longingly into his eyes.

“Now, come with me,” breathed the Sheikh.

“I think I already am,” she gasped.

“My love! Who has not seen the change of fourteen years!”

“Fourteen years! I’m twenty-two I’ll have you know!!”

“So old? I thought you were but a young maiden.”

“What! You… AGH!”

The Sheikh dropped Violetta so suddenly that not even her smoke knight reflexes were enough to stop her doing an inelegant face plant on the hard wooden floor. He looked down on her in disgust.

 “I cannot believe that I allowed that women to fool me and pass off an old hag like you as a pure maiden.”

 She looked up at him imploringly.

“Please. Take me with you.”

 “Begone from my sight! Old women are fit for no more than scullery work or cooking!” He turned his back on her in contempt.

“What?! Right that’s it!”

“I will soar away to freedom! Farewell old hag! Mwahahahahaha!! – _What_?!!” As the Sheikh launched himself from the window he did not so much soar as plummet because he was standing, not on a flying carpet, but a large sheet of corrugated iron. He had just enough time to be extremely impressed by Violetta’s sleight of hand skills before he hit the courtyard far below with a sound like someone standing on a frog.

Violetta rolled up the flying carpet so Agatha could examine it later, then sat down with her back to the wall and hugged her knees. Right on cue Zeetha charged in, brandishing her swords.

“Where’s the Sheikh?” she demanded.

“He flew out the window,” replied Violetta. Zeetha rushed over and looked up into the sky.

“Which way did he go? We might be able to get the fleet to launch some _Sturzzeugs_ to intercept him.”

“No. Not up. Down.” Zeetha looked down into the Courtyard.

“I don’t see him. But looks like someone spilt a lot of strawberry jam down there and … oh… EW!”

“Yep.” Violetta got slowly to her feet. “I’ve had a completely bloody awful day. Can I go home now please?” 

“What? Oh, sure. Come on, let’s get you to an airship. It’s all over bar the mopping up – er, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

Together the two ladies walked back down the staircase of the tower.

“I’m sure that swine must have done all manner of unspeakable things to you,” said Zeetha, “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” replied Violetta.

“You’ll probably feel a lot better if you…”

“NO! NOT EVER! OKAY?!”

“Suit yourself,” said Zeetha, hiding her disappointment poorly.

“Anyway, where’s my Lady?”

“She’s fine; surrounded by Jägers and about to start examining the late Sheikh’s tech. She’ll be busy for hours and she won’t be needing her bodyguard.”

“Never mind that. Do you think she still wants to fit me with a waggley tail?”

“Don’t worry. She’ll have forgotten all about that by now. Almost certainly. Probably. Look, don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

Despite Zeetha’s reassurances, Violetta was still worried when she saw Agatha in the courtyard. Fortunately, The Heterodyne was distracted by an animated conversation with Claude.

“This is _outrageous_ ,” exclaimed the Artiste. “A travesty I tell you! _Darling_! this contravenes every tenet of civilised society. I had heard the Heterodynes were _brutes_ but such barbarism is more terrible than anything I could _possibly_ imagine.”

Agatha looked at him in concern. “Whatever is the matter? Have you been mistreated? We are here to free slaves, not to enslave. If any of my forces have acted outside of the rules of warfare…” she gave a suspicious look towards the Jägers, who were all suddenly very intent on whatever they happened to be doing at the time, “…then I want to know about it. These are not the days of the Old Masters. The House of Heterodyne has a new reputation to build.”

“Darling, I’m not talking about all your unattractive unwashed uncouth minions, I’m talking about _you_.”

“Me? What have I done?”

“What have you _done_? Darling, what _haven’t_ you done! Why, _your hair_ obviously! “

“My hair?”

“Yes darling, your wonderful, wonderful, strawberry blonde hair. A true work of art, the like of which I have never seen. And how do you treat it? What am I saying! You don’t treat it _at all_ do you? No! Do you even comb it? And no doubt when you are working on some horrible piece of junk you tie it up in a crass ponytail like a farm girl don’t you? How can you treat such a treasure so? And as for your clothes, well, the less said about that the better. But fear not! I am Claude! Artiste of Genius! I am here to sweep away your dull unimaginative world view for ever and introduce you to beauty, elegance and the most _exquisite_ refinement.”

Wondering if Claude was talking his way into a new job or a close encounter with an adjustable spanner, Violetta hurried out of the palace to the command airship, which had landed a little way outside of the town. Moloch von Zinzer and Florence were waiting at the top of the loading ramp, supervising the returning clanks, constructs and abominations of science that comprised a Heterodyne airborne assault force.

“Welcome back,” called Moloch. “Wow, you look… er... different without your smoke knight uniform.”

“What do you mean?” she replied, and then remembered she was still wearing her slave girl costume. “EEP!” she added and blushed scarlet, making a belated and ineffectual attempt to cover the more strategic parts of her anatomy with her hands.

“Hey, I think it looks really good on you and the way you’ve done your hair is YEOUCH!!” He turned to his wife with a look of chagrin. “Hey, you bit me!”

“No dear,” said Florence, “that was just a friendly nip. When I bite you, you’ll know all about it.” She smiled at her husband, displaying a terrifying array of teeth too large and too sharp for any human mouth. Moloch found himself looking down the muzzle of a fully-loaded wolf. He remembered the wise words of advice given to him on his wedding day by Professor Mittelmind.

“Ah, right, of course, sorry dear! Why don’t I go and check that the cargo is secure? Right at the other end of the hold.”

“What a _good idea_! You do that while I find Ms Mondarev here some clothes to wear. A nice baggy set of dungarees perhaps. I’m sure they will suit her _so_ much better.”

**Author's Note:**

> _A first draft appeared on the Jägerkin Forum_
> 
>  
> 
> _Agatha Heterodyne, Princess Zeetha, Violetta Mondarev, Moloch von Zinzer and the Girl Genius universe are the creations of Studio Foglio_


End file.
